


the edge wears

by anotherthief



Category: The Young and the Restless
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 05:12:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherthief/pseuds/anotherthief
Summary: Grief is about loss, the loss of someone you knew, someone you loved. It’s being confronted with the truest finality of goodbye - saying goodbye over and over again, unending.Phyllis, Sharon, Daniel, and Mariah, in turn, reflect on the anniversary of Cassie's death.





	the edge wears

**Author's Note:**

> I have perhaps stretched canon a bit here and there, forgive me.

There's a fine edge to new grief, it severs nerves, disconnects reality--there's mercy in a sharp blade. Only with time, as the edge wears, does the real ache begin.

\- Christopher Moore

* * *

 

**Phyllis**

 

Phyllis takes her phone from her ear and sets it on the table, pulls her robe tighter around her.

"Was that Daniel?" Billy comes through from the kitchen, shirt half buttoned, a coffee mug in hand.

She nods. Billy hands her the mug. Her fingers wrap around it. She's already had two cups.

"I hate this day." She watches Billy button up his shirt. His eyes dart to her then back to the buttons.

"How is he?" Billy asks, quietly.

"He's okay." She shakes her head and sighs. "That's a lie. He's not. Not really. But he is also okay, as okay as he can be today."

"Did the two of you talk about -"

Phyllis cuts him off with another shake of her head. "No. We talked about the weather and about Lucy. Daniel says she's growing like a weed. The last pair of shoes I sent are already pinching her toes."

She takes a sip of her coffee, not that she needs it. Caffeine is already buzzing under her skin, but it's there and it's warm.

"And then he got quiet like he does every year. And every year I think I'll know the right thing to say but when the time comes? I never do. And he needed to take Lucy to school so I told him I loved him and asked him to call me later, which he won't and he knows that and I know that but I ask anyway.”

She runs a hand through her hair. Billy is still standing awkwardly by the table. His uncertainty and her frustration meet somewhere in the middle, leaving the air feeling heavy, the silence loaded. "You know... I know that what I feel and what Daniel feels doesn’t compete with what Nick and Sharon feel. They lost their daughter. But goddamn if this still isn't the worst day. For me. For them. For all of us, I guess, but none of us know how to talk about it."

Billy hesitates but pulls out a chair and sits down. "Did you and Nick... when you were married, did you and Nick..." he trails off and his eyes roam the ceiling as if the right words can be found there. "Do you want to talk about it?"

His face tilts back to hers, eyes scanning her face for something, she doesn’t know what. Phyllis gives him a half shrug. "Yes and no." She opens her mouth to say more, closes it, sips her coffee, then tries again. "Nick and I… we talked about how he felt, about who Cassie was, his memories of her, his dreams for her." Phyllis closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. "But I never really felt like I could - like I could _really_ say everything that goes through my head, especially not today of all days."

"Do you want to talk about it now? I can listen. You don't have to. But I want to listen. If you do."

The corners of her mouth pull into an empty smile, more of a grimace. "You might be surprised at what I have to say. It's not. I'm not... it's just really complicated."

"Explain it to me. I promise. No judgment."

Her fingers twist around the mug handle. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep."

"Try me."

Phyllis takes a deep breath, unsure of how to begin except to start. "So many lives were irrevocably changed that day. Nick’s, Sharon's, the whole Newman family... but sometimes I think it gets… forgotten isn’t the right word, maybe overlooked? That so was Daniel's. So was mine.

"I love my son more than heaven and earth, and I am so incredibly proud of the man he has grown up to be. But the boy I knew, the son I had, the day before Cassie died…” She grips her coffee mug tighter. “I haven't seen him since. I don't expect I ever will. He died in that hospital along with Cassie. I watched my baby boy age well beyond his years in an instant and watched him wade through a tragedy that the adults in his life couldn't handle, much less support him through. And it's been with him ever since. I can't help but feel that I failed him."

"You did the best you could."

"I don’t think I’ll ever believe that’s true, and even if it is, it wasn't enough." The coffee has gotten cold but she sips it anyways, searching for words and then surprised at how easily they come once she opens her mouth.

"Then there's Summer. Who wouldn't even exist, but for Cassie dying. That is something I have never been able to reconcile. My sunshine after the storm. I've made so many mistakes in my life, but I can't apologize for my child's existence. I wouldn't begin to know how. And so while I would give anything to spare Daniel the hell that he is in today - and I mean that when I say it - at the same time I couldn't give Summer up. I couldn't change it and make Cassie here because then Summer's not. What kind of monster does that make me? That I wouldn't spare Nick and Sharon the pain of losing their child, not if it meant giving up my own joy. So, you see, I'm stuck because while I know I can't change the past, I also know that I wouldn't if I could.

“And then Daniel calls me and I let him sit on the other end of the line, waiting for me to say something, anything... and I can't find the words. Except to tell him I love him. For all the times as a parent that those words have felt inadequate, they never feel more so than they do every year on this day. Because confusing as it is, my life is both better and worse because Cassie died. Everyone lost Cassie. I lost Daniel, but I got Summer. So I guess I win."

She pauses, the words out of her mouth falling flat. Billy, true to his word, is just taking this all in - his face unreadable, elbows on his knees and chin resting on his hands. "I probably wouldn't even be sitting here, with you, but for Cassie dying.

“Everything traces back to that day. I could never have predicted that the death of someone else's child would be the biggest fork in the story of my life. But there I was going down one path and then suddenly hit a hairpin turn, careening in an entirely different direction and blowing up everything and everyone left in my way."

"So while you see, I can't. I can't compete with Nick and Sharon, and - god I know it might sound like I am trying - I promise you, Billy, I'm not. I didn't bury my child, but... my life has never been the same. And what am I supposed to do with that?” She lets go of her mug, splays her fingers on the table, suppresses the urge to drive her nails into the wood. “I have no idea, probably never will, so I just keep pushing forward cause that’s who I am. I barrel on ahead, even when I probably shouldn’t.” Her mouth briefly twists into a half smile. “Except for today.” Billy reaches out and covers her hands with his. “When it hits me all over again.”

A moment passes, her thoughts swirling in five directions. “It’s not that I don’t like my life now, and I still have Daniel and I have Summer and a lot of really good things have happened. But it’s not -” she stops, the words caught in her throat.

“It’s not what you had planned,” Billy says, finishing the thought for her, his words quiet but not unkind.

Phyllis shakes her head. Tears prick at the back of her eyes. She tries to push them down but loses the battle before she can even put in real effort.

When Billy pulls her from her chair and into his lap, she doesn’t fight him, just buries her face in his neck, selfishly taking the comfort he offers.

 

\-----

 

**Sharon**

 

“I had a dream about her last night,” Sharon whispers in the dark. Nick hugs her closer, arms wrapped tightly around her. She can feel him hesitate, then he asks, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

The details are fading already, but she’s clinging to the image of Cassie, 14 years old, gangly and laughing. No matter how much time passes, in Sharon’s mind, Cassie will always be 14 years old.

“She was happy.” Sharon leaves it at that. She doesn’t know how to say more, so she just burrows deeper into Nick’s arms.

 

-

 

They take turns showering. Sharon doesn’t feel like moving today, much less washing and drying her hair, but sometimes it’s better to go through the motions. They still have to fill the hours until this god awful day is over.

She sits at her mirror and reaches for a makeup brush, then stops, suddenly caught in a memory of Cassie at age seven (or maybe eight?) sitting beside Sharon and asking her mom to dust her cheeks with powder and blush, too. She remembers lightly brushing on a little of each and adding a touch of clear gloss. Cassie had beamed and run off to show Nick. It wasn’t so many years later that her offer to do Cassie’s makeup was met with “ _Mom_ , I can do it myself” and a dramatic eye roll worthy of the teenager she was becoming. God, what she would give -

A lump rises in her throat. Nick walks up behind her, towel around his waist, and his hair still sticking up from being toweled dry. He squeezes her shoulders. She leans back into him and reaches up to wipe her eyes.

“You looked far away. Where’d you go?”

“Age 7, playing in my makeup. And age 13, insisting she could do her own.”

“That was our girl, stubborn.”

Sharon nods and closes her eyes. There’s so much to say. There’s nothing to say.

They stay that way for a minute maybe three.

Sharon leans back up, reaches again for a makeup brush. Nick goes in search of clothes and a comb.

 

-

 

At the graveyard, Sharon and Nick place flowers and a card from Faith. The card is a habit they got into when she was younger. They didn’t know how to maneuver grief for someone who died before Faith was born but whose presence has steadily lingered in their home and in their lives. So they made cards because it was active and it was something, a way to talk about the ghost in the room. But Faith wanted to go to school today so they brought the card for her. This weight is not one they want her to try to carry like they do and like Noah does. Faith is growing up; if and how she memorializes Cassie should be on Faith’s terms.

Nick had talked about wanting to grieve with Sharon this year. As they stand at Cassie’s grave, she wonders if there’s ever really any way to do that now, so many years later. She feels like she should say something, but the words don’t come.

After a while, Nick takes her hand, and they go home.

 

\-----

 

**Daniel**

 

Daniel picks up Lucy from school. This is one of the biggest upsides to working from home. The smile on Lucy’s face every time she hops in his car at the end of her school day could light up the world. Her zest for life is endless, so far unblemished by the traumas adults have accumulated. True, she knows Daisy is gone, but she has Heather. Lucy has a mom to braid her hair, to tuck her in at night. The absence of the woman who carried her is not something she appears to be concerned with, yet. He prays that’s always the case, that he and Heather are always enough.

They go home and Daniel turns over the laundry while Lucy eats apple slices and reorganizes her dollhouse furniture. He folds the clothes fresh out of the dryer and puts them away. Basic tasks are easy to focus on: fold this shirt then that one, place them in the basket, take them upstairs, deposit in the right drawer. Daniel can’t do much today but live in it, but he and his girls will have clean clothes to wear tomorrow. It’ll have to be enough.

His phone buzzes. It’s a text from Lily.

_Thinking of you, call me later, if you want to talk._

She does this every year. He knows her intentions are good, but he never calls. He’ll call her on their anniversary to cajole her, but he won’t call her today and suck her into his pain again. He’s no longer young enough to think it’s fair to ask someone else to fix the parts of you that are broken. And the truth is Daniel could live to 150 years old and he would still never stop feeling responsible for Cassie’s death. He was older. He should have been looking out for her. She should never have thought it was her job to look out for him.

Daniel wants to disappear. He wants to fade into a thousand pieces and scatter into the wind. He wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants it to have been him, wants to trade places, wants -

“Daddy! Can I have more apples?” Lucy hollers from the living room and interrupts his thoughts.

Daniel trudges back downstairs and cuts up another apple. He sits on the couch and watches Lucy with her doll people. She is a miracle in motion. The love Daniel has for his daughter is overwhelming at times. There are more chores to be done, to keep his hands busy, but for a few moments, he just watches his baby play.

Later after they’ve put Lucy to bed and are halfway through a bottle of wine, Heather gently reminds him that if he wasn’t here then Lucy wouldn’t be either. This isn’t lost on Daniel. But, guilt isn’t something that can be washed away by joy - only forgiveness which, for Daniel on this day, always seems to be just out of reach.

 

\-----

 

**Mariah**

 

Mariah kicks at the grass. She’s not sure what she’s doing here. The flowers she cut from the garden now seem pointless, but she lays them down anyways to join the other bundle at Cassie’s headstone.

Grief is about loss, the loss of someone you knew, someone you loved. It’s being confronted with the truest finality of goodbye - saying goodbye over and over again, unending. That’s not what Mariah is experiencing right now.

She doesn’t miss Cassie. She can’t miss someone she never met, not really. But she does feel something - a dull ache, an absence, a shadow she never knew she was missing. Mariah doesn’t miss the presence of someone who existed, but maybe she misses what might have been - if Sharon had been older, if Mariah and Cassie had been kept together, if Cassie were alive right now.

Mariah doesn’t know how to say goodbye. She never got to say hello.

 

-

 

At home, Mariah finds Nick and Sharon on the couch, Sharon curled into Nick’s side. They stop talking when she comes in. Sharon sits up, flashes a weak smile.

Mariah doesn’t give them a chance to speak before she blurts out, “Can I ask you guys something?” She takes a seat on the other end of the couch. Sharon reaches over to grab her hand.

“Of course. What’s up?"

“I don’t really know how to do this, so I’m just gonna ask. Can you, can you tell me about my sister, about Cassie?”

Sharon and Nick exchange a look. Mariah hasn’t really asked them much about Cassie since she first found out she had a twin who died. Sharon nods, and Nick asks, “What do you want to know?”

Mariah shrugs. “Something,” she replies, bites her lip. “Everything - I want to know everything.” Sharon squeezes her hand.

It takes them a minute to know how to start but then Nick and Sharon are talking, sharing stories, eventually pulling out old photo albums. They talk with her for hours. She’s never seen them like this, this raw. But they keep going until Mariah can more clearly see Cassie in her head, the shadow coming into the light.

It’s still not really hello.

Maybe it will help her say goodbye.


End file.
